Rebellious Spirits
by wanderl-st
Summary: Faith Moreno meets Logan, a mysterious musician, while searching for answers on her brother's disappearance and falls for him. Will he lead her to her brother or just cause her to question her beliefs? No slash.


_What I currently have uploaded below is a small snippet of the entire first chapter I've written for this story. I decided to upload it to see what kind of feedback it will get, if it gets good feedback I'll post the entire chapter and keep writing, but if not I'll probably just stop. So, if you like it and want me to keep writing, review! Thank you._

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**9/7/12: So I've gotten some feedback and I decided to post the rest of this chapter. Read/Review & Enjoy! :-)**

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His heartbeat thudded dully against his rib cage, lulling me to sleep as I lay motionless on his chest. I knew this was wrong; falling asleep in an older man's arms, in his bed, in his home. Granted, he isn't much older than me, only 4 years, but even those 4 years were too much for my over-bearing, over-protective, straight-edge, Christian parents. I'd be burnt at the stake if they caught me here or seen all of the 'sins' we'd been committing, together. Maybe that's the reason I'm here; the rush of getting caught. All my life I'd followed the rules: never let a drop of alcohol stain my taste buds outside of the church, no sex before marriage, no use of vulgar language, attend church every Sunday...and the list goes on.

"What's on your mind?" His voice was raspy, thick with exhaustion as it broke me from my thoughts. Thick fingers combed through my hair as I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck. What was I supposed to tell him? That this relationship, or whatever it is, is wrong and 1000% against my morals? No, he'd heard that already, about a thousand times or so. His chest rumbled beneath me as he let out a low chuckle, one of his hands working down the length of my back.

"You're doin' that thinkin' thing again, aren't ya?" The southern drawl that I'd come so accustomed to tugged on his words. Stories of his Texas up-bringing flooded my mind. It was nights like these that we lay in the dark sharing countless stories; some funny, heart-warming, most of his were of his childhood, he never talked about why or how he ended up here in The Golden State. So many nights he'd have me imagining a blanket of stars covering the Texas night sky above us and not the usual white tiling of his bedroom ceiling. He promised to take me there one day, to meet his family, his friends, and see the town I've heard so much about. A pang of guilt shot through my heart as I pictured him showing me off as some kind of prize while I'm struggling to hide him from everyone like dirty laundry.

"Tell me a story...about Texas." Even through the dark I could sense the grin on his lips, he loved that I was so interested in his life, he told me so the night we shared our first kiss, a memory that was now locked away in our memory vaults.

"Well, there was this one time..." His voice soothed my racing mind as he reminisced about one of the countless times his old pickup had broken down on the back roads, this time during a date with his first serious girlfriend, Carla. I'd heard multiple stories about his first love. At first I was jealous of the affection he had for her, a burning passion, typical feelings to have towards one's first true love, something I've yet to experience. At least I don't think I've experienced it. What is true love? How does it feel to be truely and irrevocably in love? My first and only boyfriend, Adam, claimed to love me, but I never did feel the same. What I felt for him wasn't love, no, more like safety and comfort. In the end he cheated on me, made out and felt up Renee Crestwood, the pastor's daughter. For someone with a pastor as a father she sure was unholy. Everyone thought I was in some kind of heartbroken comatose, but I was the opposite, I was happy he'd found someone to fill the void I conciously let slip into our relationship.

"You still listenin'?" His words were muffled by my hair as he set soft kisses to my head. He carried on after I signalled him with a small nod, running my fingertips along the contours of his bare chest.

How did I get myself in this situation; struggling not to love the one person who challenged all of my beliefs you may ask?

Well that's just another memory in the vaults...

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23 days. 3 weeks and 2 days. 556 hours since my brother's been gone.

518 hours, 21 days, 3 weeks since police stopped looking for him. Detectives had 48 hours to pull a lead in the case, but it was cold. So they filed it under those dozens of mysteries you see on TV dramas, yeah, that room full of "cold cases" was real, and my brother, Trenton, was not one of them. Seeming that we lived in California, one of the country's most populated states, there were thousands of unsolved cases, ranging from random junkies murdered or overdosed in alleyways to woman being picked up and never seen again. Basically, if you wanted someone found, you had to go out and be your own detective.

Now here I am playing Nancy Drew, snooping around Jam Space. I'd always known about my brother's band, it was our secret; mom and dad didn't know, neither did Molly or Noah, not until he disappeared at least. I'd witnessed my father curse for the first time when Detective Perella told him and mom about Heffron Drive, Trenton's band with his two best friends, Kendall and Dustin. He claimed that the "rock star lifestyle" was a sin with the whole sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll. I was positive Trenton wasn't on drugs, sex though, I couldn't tell you.

Trenton was always question our families' beliefs: Why shouldn't we life young, wild, and free? I have no idea how my brother made it anywhere with his band when all he did was use other artists' lyrics, e.g- using a Wiz Khalifa lyric as his life motto.

"Can I help ya' little miss?" I met the gaze of a pair of chocolate brown eyes, he was fairly tan about an average height with a muscular frame, completed with espresso locks gelled up perfectly in the front. His voice had a southern twang to it, pulling at the vowels in his words.

"Do you by any chance know anything about Trenton Moreno?" The man crossed his arms across his chest as he leaned again the door frame, quirking an eyebrow.

"Depends, who's askin'?" A smirk graced his lips as I scoffed. Who cares who's asking? It's not like I'm a nark or something, I barely even look my age of 16. I'd caught my mom's short gene, standing at a mere 5' 2", and it didn't help that I dressed similar to a 12 year old girl, my clothing was always bought and chosen by my mom, who herself dressed like the Virgin Mary. My body was far different from a 12 year olds', but no one would know that with the drapes I wear. My boobs were of decent size, in my opinion, not too big and not too small, as well as my butt. I'd inherited my grandmother's perfect hour glass shape. I'd also been blessed with clear, olive skin. My dark chestnut hair was fairly thick and wavy, a trait I'd gotten from my grandfather. The odd thing about me though was my icy blue eyes, their origin completely unknown, only appearing on myself and Trenton. Some people swore we were twins, and in all honestly, we could've passed it off if no one knew he was 19 and I was 16.

"His sister." He pushed off the door frame and stepped closer, surveying my face and trailing down the length of my body. "I came here for information on Trenton not to be checked out." He chuckled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gray skinny jeans.

"I wasn't checking you out. I was checking to see if your eyes matched your shoes." I glanced down at my white tennis shoes and back up to see a lopsided smirk on his lips. "You have beautiful eyes by the way." What a typical Casanova this guy was. I hadn't even learned his name and he was hitting on me. Cockiness radiated from him, confidence glowing in every move he made.

"If you're not gonna help me can you at least help me find someone who will?" He probably didn't even know Trenton. Maybe I'd get lucky and find Kendall or Dustin, I haven't seen either of them since the police brought them in for questioning on Trenton's case.

"Hm, feisty...just like your brother described you." He stalked off along the dark hallway lined with old band posters that let to the back rooms where the bands would hang out after a rehearsal.

"So you know my brother?" Stepping to the side he let me in the small room with two leather couches, a mirror, a table, and a million more bands posters, including Heffron Drive's, which hung just to the right of the old, dingy window.

"I _knew_ Trenton. Word around town is he isn't around anymore." Knew Trenton...he acts like he's dead. Trenton wasn't dead, I knew it, I could feel it, like some sort of brother-sister telepathy thing.

"Well, that's why I'm here. I want to find my brother." I took a bottle of water from his extended hand before sinking in to one of the leather couches, him in the other.

"What makes you think he wants to be found?" Of course he wanted to be found. He wouldn't just up and leave us, leave _me._

"Better yet, what makes you think he's not in trouble or dead?" My throat tightened at the thought. Trenton was a harmless prankster, so why would he be in trouble? Dead. What if he was a victim to some random psycho serial killer? I took a chug of water to calm the ache now settling in my chest.

"I don't mean to scare ya', I'm just being realistic." His eyes were soft and sympathetic as he sat beside me, draping his arm behind me.

"You didn't scare me, I was just...thirsty." An amused look sprang in his eyes, his lips twitching up into the already familiar lopsided grin. "So can you help me or not?" He stroked the small amount of scruff on his chin, his eyebrows arching and his forehead wrinkling.

"What do I get if I do?" Once again, I scoffed. What did he expect in return? Some kind of pay off? He grabbed my arm before I could stand up, pulling me practically into his lap. The second his skin was against mine I felt a wave of electricity coursing through my body, my heart was thumping erratically in my chest as he kept a firm grip around me. "Calm down little miss, I'll help ya'." My jaw tightened instinctively as he gazed at my lips, then back up to my eyes. "But first, I think it'd be proper if we got to know each other a little better." Every inch of my body felt as if it'd been struck by lightning as he slid his palms over my bare arms, pulling my hands into his own. "What's this?" He grazed his thumb over the small metal ring on my left ring finger. "You married?" His thumb traced the heart outline lightly, his other hand cradled around my wrists.

"No, it's- it's a promise ring." His brow furrowed as he looked up at me. "It signifies the promise I made to god; to stay abstinent until marriage." A low chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head, stopping to give me a small grin. Getting a promise ring wasn't my idea, it was my dad's. The second I hit puberty he threw this on me. I did believe in waiting to be intimate with someone I'm truly in love with, but what if I found that before marriage? Marriage is a big step...so is sex, but not as serious as marriage. What if you got married, as a virgin, and the sex was terrible? You're basically screwed (ha ha) because you don't have the chance to experience anyone else.

"I forgot that your brother told me about what religious nuts your parents are." I jerked my hands from his grasp settling them in my own lap and turning to look out the window. "I'm sorry beautiful, isn't one of your Christian things forgiveness?" The edges of my lips tugged into a reluctant smile as I turned back to him. "That'a girl. Now tell me, is your name as beautiful as your face?" Blood rushed to my face, staining my cheeks a beet red color as I swooned. He sure was a ladies' man, no doubt about it.

"Faith." I murmured.

"Hm?"

"Faith, my name is Faith." He nodded, leaning back into the couch.

"I should've guessed your name would've been something religious-like." My name was pretty ironic, especially compared to my siblings. My parents decided to name me Faith after my premature birth. I was the only premature baby birthed by my mother. Trenton and my older sister, Molly, were both on time, and my younger sister, Noah was a week later than expected.

"What's your name?" He told me his name was Logan, no significance behind the choice other than his gender. His mom had wanted her first child to be a girl, but was relieved when she had a boy served. Now he served as a protector to his own younger sister, Presley, who lived back in Texas with his parents.

He told me a couple of stories from his childhood in exchange for a few of my own. Besides being a notorious ladies' man he was a pretty decent guy, highly sarcastic, but decent. There's something pulling my to him, keeping me planted on this couch, but I can't figure out what exactly it is. Maybe it was his dopey lopsided grin, or the mysteriousness behind his chocolate irises.

"I could really go for a beer right now. What about you?" He twisted a lock of my hair around his fingertip aimlessly, pursing his lips.

"I don't- I don't drink." My hair fell from his finger as I shook my head. "I'm not of age...it'd be a sin."

"Repent!" He clapped his hands, making me jump at the noise echoing through the small space. "I'll get you some red wine. Y'all drink that in church, dont'cha?" I meekly nodded and trailed behind him, walking out of Jam Space and down the street to Warner's Liquors.

"Wait here." He ordered before disappearing inside. A few minutes later he walked out, a brown paper bag in his arms and a smile on his face. "So, little miss Faith, are you gonna help me drink this or what?" He'd slipped the bottle of wine out the top of the bag, wiggling his eyebrows. I shrugged my shoulder and took a deep breath, walking silently by his side. "You aren't gonna go to hell for doing it once, live a little." He let me be as we walked the remainder of the way to what I assumed was his apartment.

The smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes filled my nostrils as I stepped inside, Logan closing the door behind me and shuffling into the eat-in kitchen to my right, pulling two glasses from one of the cupboards and setting it on the island. I slid into a stool at the counter watching as he popped the cork out of the bottle and filled the two glasses with the deep maroon liquid. He slid one of the glasses into my fingertips that rest at the edge of the granite counter top.

"This is wrong." I murmured, sliding the glass around in smooth circles, keeping my gaze fixed on the wine swishing against its barriers.

"Then leave." The words slipped dully from his lips before he took a long sip of his drink. "I didn't force ya' to come here, or wait outside the store. You coulda' dipped at anytime... but you didn't." A smug grin adorned his plump lips as he turned, drink in hand, and walked down the hall.

_Why was I still here? He was right, I could've gone home but I didn't and I couldn't think of a legitimate reason why._

Curiosity was starting to get the best of me as I peered down the hallway Logan disappeared into. My feet dragged me down the hall, the ask colored walls bare, one room at the end illuminated by a golden light, the shadow of a fan flickering across the beige carpet.

"Logan?" I called out as I neared the room. Soft music trailed out of the open doorway, John Mayer's voice crooning in my ears. Logan was laying motionless on a bed that I assumed to be his own, his glass empty on the nightstand to the left of him. My own glass felt heavier in my hands as I sat at the edge of the bed, looking around his bedroom.

A dark wood dresser stood against the wall, a picture of a younger looking Logan and a young girl was the only thing on the piece of furniture. A caramel colored suede bench sat at the end of his bed before a large bay window.

"You gonna drink that, or just waste it? Shit cost me 25 bucks." I rested the glass against my lips, slowly tipping it back and sipping the wine. It slid smoothly out of the glass and down my throat until there was nothing left. It didn't feel wrong, heck, it only tasted like expensive grape juice.

"Well, I was only suggestin' a sip, not chugging the whole thing." My cheeks heated up a deep crimson color as I sat the glass down and lay beside him.

"Who's the girl in the picture over there?" I turned my head to look at him as he smirked.

"Why, you jealous?" He tucked hi lip between his teeth as I rolled my eyes. "It's my sister, Presley, she's 10 now." It'd slipped my mind that the girl could've been his sister when I spotted the picture.

"Do you miss her?" He smiled, an actual smile, not a grin or a smirk as he rolled on his side, propping his head up on his hand and looked down at me. "I do. I miss her and my parents. Hell, I miss Texas a whole lot in general." Logan's eyes were blank as he dazed, dragging a hand lazily down my own, playing with my ring once again.

"Why'd you leave?" Turning to lay in his back again he huffed, raking a hand through his espresso locks.

"You got and siblings, besides Trenton?" Ignoring his change of subject I told him about Noah, my baby sister. She was born during the first rainstorm of the drought season, hence the name Noah. He sat up when I mentioned my sister Molly.

"Molly, Molly King?" I nodded and he chuckled. "Molly King Moreno, you sister, wow. Y'all are polar opposites."

"What do you mean?" He toyed with a button on my shirt with a smirk.

"You're sitting here all pretty and innocent...your sister would show up with almost no clothes and manage to lose whatever bit she did have by the end of the night. Man, she has a killer body." He bit down on his lower lip scanning over my body with his eyes. "Makes me wonder how good you look under this nun get-up." I slapped his hand away and fixed the button he'd managed to unfasten. "Easy there, I'm just teasin'."

A shrill ringing filled the room, emanating from Logan's pocket, but he just lay still, ignoring it. The ringing ceased and he stood, walking over to the window and pushed the curtain aside. Above the bed, the wall was now littered with the city lights. Car engines, honks, and other miscellaneous noises sank in around us as Logan stood motionless.

"So many people here. No one ever stops, this city is always alive." He mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.

"Is it like that in Texas too?" He shook his head, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and making his way back over to the bed, this time sitting on the edge next to where I lay. "Everybody there does the same shit everyday, living, but dead inside. It's the saddest thing I know."

"Is that why you left?" Logan's muscles tensed under my touch, his forehead adorning a thick crease.

"That's another story for another time." His hair tickled my neck as he lay on my chest, resting his arms on either side of my torso. Motionless I lay before enveloping him in my arms, my fingers toying with the small strands of hair at the nap of his neck. I don't know why, but I felt relaxed, my worrying mind was at ease as he hummed along with the music that still played.

"Tell me a story, one meant for this time."

"Why are you so interested in my life?" He tilted his head to look at me, cocking a brow. I shrugged and rested his head back in place starting on about his high school football tryouts and his realization that he was much, much different than the people he was surrounded by. In an out I listened, but I couldn't keep my mind from pondering his question; why was I so interested in his life? I'd met Logan not even 12 hours ago, but here I was prying to learn more about him. He had a gravitational pull, one that kept me planted outside the store, pulled me into walking home with him, and now kept me here with him in my arms now paying any mind to the face that I was expected home over an hour ago.


End file.
